


All Is Fair In Love And War

by theperuvianfolkband



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4259484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theperuvianfolkband/pseuds/theperuvianfolkband
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Character A is a hitman assigned to kill Character B. Character A changes their mind. (With a little bit of tweaking by me)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Is Fair In Love And War

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so I'm attempting (very badly, might I add) to do Camp NaNo this month, so I'm basically going to be writing a bunch of really short fics/drabbles throughout the month because forcing myself to write everyday is hard enough but forcing myself to write my own made up characters in my own made up world is just not going to happen. So. We'll see what happens. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm basically just shitting on the page to get words out so sorry if this is really bad. I'm basically posting it because I'm kind of hoping it'll motivate me to write more. 
> 
> Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me 
> 
> Enjoy!

Clarke Griffin was damn good at her job, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t proud of it. And through her years of being in her position, she’d learned a few things. 

1\. Stay away from tequila. Yeah, it might be fun for the night, but in the long haul it really wasn’t worth it. Clarke loved alcohol, but if there was one thing she could go without for the rest of her life, it was tequila. She’d learned that in the Debacle of ‘09.

2\. There’s no such thing as a coincidence. Sure, sometimes she looked like a paranoid bitch, but who was the one laughing at the end of the day? Answer: her. 

3\. Always keep a pair of nice slacks/pencil skirt, a blazer, tank top, and heels in your car. Seriously. If you look the part you can basically bullshit your way out of anything. It was a good skill to have, she wasn’t going to lie.

4\. If you run in the right circles, you can basically get yourself out of any situation. Now, she wasn’t saying she spoke from experience, but she spoke from experience. 

And finally, her last rule, her most important (and most cliche, she had to admit) rule, her cardinal rule, you could say, 

5\. Don’t get involved. Separate yourself. And do not, under any circumstances, fall in love. 

-x-

It started on a Monday. (Then again, didn’t everything bad start on Mondays? Why do you think Mondays are universally despised? Answer: bad things happened on Mondays. So Mondays were reserved, in Clarke’s mind, for bad news, bad things, bad moods. Bad anything, basically.)

She’d walked into the FBI that morning, content to stay at her desk all day. She hadn’t had any assignments lately and, to be completely honest, Clarke was kind of enjoying it (not that she’d ever admit it). Yes, she liked to keep busy, but after having five assignments in a row, it was nice to have a little time off. 

The minute she’d walked in, the chief, Kane, he insisted them calling him, barked, “Griffin,” gave her the two-finger summons and receded back into his office. 

Raven, one of Clarke’s co-workers and, let’s be honest, one of her only friends cackled. “Must be seriously business, Griffin. You got two fingers.” 

“Shut it, Reyes,” Clarke retorted, tossing a folder onto her desk and making her way towards Kane’s office. Once she entered his office she murmured, “Sir,” in acknowledgement. 

He barely looked up. “Griffin, sit down,” he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. She waited patiently until he finished writing. Setting his pen down, he clasped his hands together. “I have another assignment for you.” He picked up a folder on his desk. Clarke reached for it, opening it and scanning over the documents with well practiced motions. “There’s been an anonymous tip on a death threat for Senator Jaha.” Clarke visibly stiffened at the name. Kane sighed. “Clarke, I know you have a…” he trailed off, searching for the word, “past with the Jaha’s but—”

“You told me I wouldn’t have to fraternize with anyone from my past,” Clarke interrupted. “That was the deal when I took the job, Kane.” Then, as if she’d realized who she was talking to she added a quick, “Sir.” 

“I know, Clarke, and I apologize for this, but your connections with them may be what will break this case.” He studied her for a moment before continuing, recognizing he’d gained an inch. “The tip claimed this man,” he pushed a picture across the desk, “is a threat to the senator.” 

Clarke froze. 

Kane was studying her, gauging her reaction. 

Then she started to laugh. What began as giggled quickly deteriorated to what could only be described as guffaws. Stifling her laughter with her hand and wiping the tears from her eyes, she looked up at Kane. “You—you think this man is a threat to Senator Thelonious Jaha, one of the most well-protected men in the country? You have got to be joking.” 

“This is far from a joke, Agent Griffin.” Kane’s face hardened. 

Clarke tried to school her features. “Yes, sir. Sorry. It’s just—you think,” Clarke glanced down at the photo again, “Bellamy Blake is the threat to the senator?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief coloring her voice at bay. 

“That’s what the tip suggested.”

“Well, then they must have been mistaken because that is ridiculously inaccurate.” 

“It was a very reliable source, Agent.”

Clarke glanced up. “I thought you said it was anonymous?” she questioned. 

His lips thinned but he didn’t explain himself further. Leaning back in his chair he changed the subject, “Why are you so vehemently against the idea of Mr. Blake being a threat, Griffin? Please, share with the class. I’m curious.” 

Clarke refrained from rolling her eyes. “I knew his sister in high school. Bell—” she cleared her throat, “Blake would never have done something to jeopardize him or Octavia. He was extremely protective of her. He wouldn’t do something so reckless as, oh, I don’t know, try to assassinate Thelonious Jaha. Trust me, he was more interested in history than anything else.” 

“Yes, Kane said, “and I’m sure he believed you, Ms. Griffin, were nothing more than a blonde cheerleader. But, as we well know, looks can be quite deceiving.” Clarke flushed. “The fact remains, Mr. Blake is a potential threat and we cannot have that on our watch, especially if that potential threat is to Jaha.” Clarke began to protest, but he cut her off. “I’m sending you undercover. This is not open for discussion, Agent. Now, get the hell out of my office.” He sat back. 

Clenching her jaw, Clarke nodded and stiffly rose to her feet. As she neared the door, she paused one last time. “Sir, with all due respect, the only way Bellamy Blake would do something so reckless as kill Thelonious Jaha is if thought it would protect his sister.” 

Kane looked up, his face suddenly tired. “You may be right, Griffin. Now get out of my office.” 

As she walked away, all she could think about was Bellamy fucking Blake and what he’d gotten himself into this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed. All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> I'm not sure if I'm going to keep writing this, I'm not too crazy about it right now. I mean, it sounded like a fun prompt but I got to writing it and it didn't feel all that smooth, but whatever. Marking it as a WIP just in case I want to come back later.
> 
> (And, yes, I am aware of all the plot holes and everything missing, but it's NaNo so you really can't judge.)


End file.
